A Foxes Tail
by Xhexanthia
Summary: Freedom, adventure and fighting for what she believed in were in her nature and part of the parcel that made those she called family love her. She'd always been strong enough to stand on her own two feet, but now she had to learn to be smart enough to know when she needed help... And brave enough to ask for it. Rated M just to cover all bases. Set 3 years before current S/L.


"Hello?"

The line briefly crackled as the snail in the palm of her hand frowned, imitating the individuals expression on the other end as she failed to answer after few moments, her mind sluggish and movements slow as the culmination of the past few months, or more precisely the past week, began to take their toll on her being.

"Who's there?"

Words formed in her mind, a jumbled mess of nonsense that made perfect sense to her... yet all that managed to make it past her chapped and bleeding lips was a small croak; her tongue felt impossibly thick and was making speech next to impossible.

She reached out a weakening limb for one of the few remaining bottles of water that were rolling around in the hold/sleeping quarters of the small vessel that she'd commandeered to replace her destroyed ship after leaving her previous location on a search that ultimately proved impossible.

Bringing the bottle up she let the tiniest amount past her abused lips, not being able to afford to waste even the smallest amount of the precious resource. The cooling liquid coated her tongue and chased away the disgusting cottony feeling in her mouth and after moving the dehydrated appendage around she once again opened her aching mouth in order to respond.

"Hey." She croaked out, the smallest of words burning her parched throat.

"Very few people know of this number yoi, and I don't recognise your voice." The snail's expression went from irritated to a downright glower.

The wounds on her lips began weeping anew as the man's words coupled with that of the Den-Dens expression caused an involuntary grin to spread across her tired and drawn features… but she didn't notice the pain for it only mingled with that of everything else.

When a wheezing laugh whistled out of her throat, which was followed quickly by a serious of rattling coughs that burnt her lungs and made her feel like her ribs wear being broken from the inside out while molten lava was simultaneously being poured into the cavity she noticed though.

A small part of her brain that was still slightly lucid wondered, only for what had to be the thousandth time since she had began her downward spiral into ouchy-hurty land, just why exactly was it again that she was voluntarily subjecting herself to this agony... One glance beside her quickly lifted the fog and reminded her of precisely why she couldn't afford the rest it would now take her to heal from her injuries.

"Forgotten me already birdy-boy?" She managed to choke out as her eyes burnt; she wasn't even able to form tears to coat the possibly bloodshot orbs.

"Kit, is that you?" Her bleary eyes tracked the movement of the plain snail, noticing how its expression immediately shifted to one of concern.

"Need your help feathers." Kit wheezed out as black spots danced on the edges of her vision… but she couldn't sleep, she needed to stay awake… she needed to keep them concealed and safe.

"Kit! Kit! Are you still there?!" She frowned at the little snail perched precariously in the palm of her shaking hand, trying to remember what may have happened to make her old friend react in such a rare display of emotion compared to his usual bored indifference.

"I'm so tired Marco." Kit said weakly before the snail fell from her palm, its hard shell clattering against the wooden boards as she slumped backwards onto the floor behind her… Still she didn't let her mind slip into the blissful darkness that she'd hovered on the periphery of for the past two days though.

The shouting from the snail echoed around the small cabin and Kit tried to summon up the energy to reach for it… but a whimper from the tiny figure beside her drew her attention instead.

Hissing as the pain in her side threatened to swallow her consciousness like the rolling waves that where causing the rickety floor boards to creak and groan, the blackness ebbing and receding like the battering waters outside Kit rolled over in one quick but utterly painful movement and pulled the little bundle to her chest before using the last of her energy to yank her large and thick black cloak over them as she zoned out from everything around her save for keeping up the illusion that the small ship they were on was just a piece of floating driftwood and waited… she waited and she prayed that help would come for them.

It could have been a few minutes… or a few days, Kit didn't know; nor could she muster up the energy to care. But her Haki, even with how utterly exhausted she was, informed her of the sudden and growing presence of the individuals closing in quickly on her location.

Dropping her illusion Kit held onto consciousness long enough to use the last of her strength to shift and wrap her tails around the precious bundle in her arms, her already abused body screaming in protest as she absorbed the worst of the boys injuries.

Safe… they were finally safe.

* * *

Marco the Phoenix, First Division Commander or the Whitebeard Pirates was woken from his peaceful and much sought after slumber by the incessant ringing of one of the select few Den-Den Mushi's that sat on a shelf situated over his desk across the other side of his room. An irritable groan left his lips as he threw his twisted bedding off of himself before getting up and padding on bare feet across the small space to swipe the offending snail from its resting place; his Zoan half easily allowing him to see in the darkness that still engulfed his room.

Realising which one it was that was actually making the racket put the blonde on high alert and all previous dregs of sleepiness and irritation that he'd had seconds ago disappeared as he sat down quickly in his chair and tugged on his desk lamps chain so he could have some illumination while he picked up the receiver on the top of the plain snails shell.

"Hello?" He asked in way of greeting, not knowing which of the few people he'd given this snail's number to could possibly be calling at this ungodly hour.

Silence greeted him and Marco frowned as he began running through the list of individuals in his mind.

His attention was once again solely on the Den-Den sitting on his desk in front of him as his heightened hearing picked up the sound of shallow wheezing breaths. "Who's there?" he said more sternly, beginning to wonder if the number had become compromised.

"Hey."

The croaked one syllable word came through the line clear enough but Marco didn't recognise the voice of the individual who'd called, which he expressed in his following words as he glared at the creature whose features contorted as if in pain before a low wheezing laugh came over the line, followed quickly by series of gasping coughs that slowly tapering off into a woeful sounding groan.

"Forgotten me already birdy-boy?" The words were a weak mumble mess, choked out between shuddering breaths but Marco heard them as clear as day and he shot forward in his seat, cradling the miserable looking snail in his hands as if the action could be transferred to the person talking into it on the other end.

"Kit, is that you?" He asked even though that name at the end her question told him who was on the other end more than anything else could; Kit was the person who'd started those stupid nicknames all those years ago, using them to left-foot him at every possible opportunity. She was also the only one who was absolutely unapologetic when she said them, and Marco could clearly hear the cockiness in her tone, even under the layers of barely repressed pain.

"Need your help Feathers." Marco's frown deepened; not just at how utterly weak and miserable one of his oldest and closest friends sounded, but because in all the years he'd known the women known simply as Kit by those close to her she'd never once directly asked for anybodies help… that alone had all of his sense on high alert as he gripped the melon sized snail in one hand while he held its round receiver in his other.

"What happened? Where are you? Kit, are you ok yoi?" Marco waited for Kit to answer his rapid fire questions but all he got in response was a lingering silence that made the air around him feel heavy with tension and worry… especially as the features of the creature he was focusing so intently on suddenly went utterly blank.

"Kit! Kit! Are you still there?!" He yelled into the circular dial that was connected to the lax looking animal, waiting with baited breath for any signs that the person on the end was still there.

"I'm so tired Marco." Kit's weak voice came through once more and the little animal in front of him once again reflected the speaker's expression, conveying so little of the utter exhaustion that Marco had heard threaded into her words seconds before it's face went blank once more making him lean forward until he was impossibly close to the Den-Den; close enough that went it clattered against what sounded like wood Marco's ears rang from the loud sound.

"Oi Kit! Kit, are you ok?! What's happening?!" He yelled into the receiver that was held in an almost crushing death grip as his mind ran at a million miles an hour, wondering what the fuck could have possibly happened to make one of the strongest, smartest and most capable person that he knew sound like she was knocking on deaths door.

Letting the Den-Den's receiver clatter haphazardly to his desks surface Marco set about tearing apart his draws in search of something that he'd been given some thirty-four years ago by the enigmatic purple haired women who was considered an honorary member of the crew by most on board, if not a full-fledged one by those that were closer to her; though she'd never actually given the Old Man's her answer all those years ago when he'd asked her to join it hadn't stopped those on board. The question still hung in limbo to this day and Marco was sure that most of the crew simply chose to overlook the technicality.

Marco found the small slip of paper just as his door burst open and Thatch's sleep dishevelled form stumbled into his room, his ginger hair tied back in bun instead of its usual pompadour style and only wearing a pair of boxers. Fossa, Rayuko, Vista and Haruta were next, crashing into the fourth commander as they too came skidding into his room, all looking just as equally sleepy as they stood in his doorway in various states of undress.

"What the fuck was with all the yelling?" Thatch demanded of him as Marco put the small slip of paper in between his teeth to quickly yank his pants on before tucking the important piece of old parchment into his back pocket as he went in search of his jacket, belt, sash and sandals amongst the mess that was now littered around his room.

"Get the rest of the Commanders and meet me in Pop's room as soon as possible!" Marco commanded as he shoved past the group crowding his doorway, taking off at a deed sprint as he heard those behind him begin to bang on doors.

Five minutes later all fifteen of the commanders where standing in front of him and Oyaji, all ready to go as soon as Marco finished quickly running through the events that had lead to this impromptu meeting just as the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon; at first Izou had grumbled about not having enough time to do his usual routine which had set Thatch off about his fucking hair, but as soon as Marco stated that Kit was in trouble and needed their help they'd promptly shut their traps and he'd had their full attention.

As he told them about what Kit had said, focusing more on how she sounded and the fact that she'd actually asked outright for assistance he noticed how all bar one face wore an undisguised expression of concern; Ace, their most recent member who not too long ago had been promoted to the rank of Second Division Commander wore a mixture between concern and curiosity. Marco couldn't fault the kid for his curiosity though; it had been a long, long time since they'd seen Kit. Five years to be exact.

"What do you want to do Son?" Whitebeard asked as the nurses fussed with the IV lines going from the machines at his bedside to his chest.

"I'd be faster if Ace takes her vivre card and I follow him on Striker in my Phoenix form while Namur follows in the water. She didn't sound good and I'd rather not wait for the Moby to catch up with her considering we have no clue where she is."

There was a beat of silence before the Old Man stood up – much to the protests of his nurses – abruptly "Well, what are you waiting for? Permission!? Get going ya brats, and bring that troublesome girl back home where she belongs."

Marco didn't even wait for Pop's voice to finish booming off the walls before grabbing Ace by his bicep and dragging the confused kid from the room; Namur didn't need the guidance, the fishman would have probably steam rolled Marco and anyone else who'd thought to get in his way.

"So who's this Kit person and why have I never met her?" Ace asked as they stopped at the rear of the ship where Striker was moored.

Marco was just about to answer the kid when Namur beat him to it. "She's family." The fishman stated simply before leaping over the railing of the ship, diving headfirst for the calm water below.

That explanation seemed enough for the young pirate as he quickly accepted the slip of paper Marco held out to him before leaping over the edge of the ship in what Marco would normally have reprimanded the brat for as a reckless display of behaviour for a devil fruit user. But in this instance he didn't care, jumping over the railing himself and transforming on the fly before taking off after the quickly departing flame powered ship as the volume level behind him began to increase exponentially as the remainder of the crew quickly set about getting the Moby turned in the direction Ace, Namur and himself were heading in.

Logically Marco knew that while Kit's vivre card was intact she was alive… that didn't stop him from praying that they got to the eccentric women in time though.

* * *

Eight hours… Eight long and arduous hours he'd been following Strikers flaming tail from his vantage point high in the sky, riding the air currents as he surveyed the vast area around them.

They'd so far past numerous islands and a few naval ships who'd quickly learned that engaging the First and Second Division Commander's of the Whitebeard Pirates because they thought that they had the advantage against two devil fruit user on the open ocean was a serious lack of judgment on their part; none had thought to check the water for an extremely tired and pissed off Eighth Division Commander when they'd started spraying the area with cannon balls and bullets. They'd learnt quickly though when Namur had shot holes through the hulls of their ships.

But now Marco was growing worried as they began entering what he knew to be Kaido's territory.

What the fuck was going through Kit's head to even think about entering The King of The Beasts territory Marco wondered as he drifted amongst the thermals. He knew that she liked to skirt just on the left side of dangerous but even he thought that this was taking it a bit too far. Hell, he'd have preferred to find her palling it up with that moron Akigami again in another one of their drunken escapades than having her potentially floating around lost and injured in Kaido's territory. Especially when the violent Yonko had made no small secret of his desires to collect devil fruit… even going so far as to kill a fruit user in his attempt to fulfil his wish of having an all Zoan crew.

Bellow him Ace began to circle around a lone piece of bobbing driftwood and just as Marco made his descend to get a better look the space around the floating lumber shimmered like a mirage and in the next instant a small and battered boat was in its place, its lone mast snapped and hanging off the side of the ship by the rigging as the white cloth that used to serve as the sail trailed in the water beside it… And there, nestled in the bowls of the ship his Haki finally informed him his oldest friend was located.

* * *

 _Marco was beginning to realise that he loved nothing more than the freedom that his new found power had to offer. The sky was literally the limit._

 _To an eighteen year old who'd grown up with nothing and as recently just as yesterday had been working himself into an early grave just to get by in life… to go from that pitiful existence to having something so priceless that was now his and his alone made his head almost as light as the clouds that he was currently soaring through._

 _He'd easily left that life behind, shedding any and all things that had tied him to that place and gone with nothing but the clothes on his back and the coin in his pocket._

 _It wasn't like anyone was going to miss him._

 _Who would have ever thought that the trek he did twice daily, an hours long walk all the way from the little shack that he called a home way out in the back woods to the ship yard on the coastal side of the moderately sized Islands only town where he scraped out a meagre existence would be any different to the monotonous routine that he'd grown used to over the past eight years._

 _His first indication should have been stumbling across such a bright and inviting looking fruit hanging alone on a tree along the narrow path that his feet had worn into the thick underbrush over the years… but it hadn't been._

 _No, like the starving person that he was he'd jumped at the chance of a free meal…_

 _Which had evidently lead to what should have been his second indication that something was unusual; surly nothing that looked that good couldn't taste anything but amazing right? How wrong he'd been._

 _That taste! For the rest of his life Marco would never be able to get that horrid taste out of his mind. He was actually afraid that I would haunt his dreams._

 _The gorgeous and mouth watering looking fruit had tasted like someone had gotten rotting vegetables, sour milk, mouldy bread and decomposing meat, sprinkled it with garbage and then molded it into a shape that had resembled an over-sized version of the nut that usually hung from the date trees that his home Island was frequented for before wrapping it in a startlingly electric blue coating that had just screamed 'EAT ME!' to Marco's rumbling stomach. The only reason he'd even swallowed the offending pulp was because he'd choked on it due to its flavour._

 _He'd spent the next ten minutes using the tail of his dirt and sweat stained shirt to scrape the remainder of its juice from his tongue. It had tasted that bad!_

 _And then, following his taste buds revolting and making him want to hurl every five seconds he'd began cursing a blue streak as he'd continued on the way back to his abysmal home as the aftertaste washed through his mouth again and again every time he belched, angrily kicking anything and everything in his path before he'd accidentally kicked something not as giving as a fallen branch or loose rock and cursed even louder – and with a vocabulary that would put most drunken sailors to shame - as he realised that having a broken foot was going to severely hamper his ability to work… that was until the blue flames had spread over the screaming appendage._

 _Marco was just glad that no one had been around to witness his reaction. Because years later when he told this story he was definitely going omit that fact that he'd screamed like a scared child, crying for help as he tripped over his own feet before he'd scrambled backwards on the forests floor trying to get away from his own flame covered foot …_ _Yeah, he'd definitely leave that little anecdote out he thought as he soared threw the clouds free as the bird he now was._

 _The next few hours weren't any better though Marco remember wearily as he spotted an island off in the distance and adjusted his heading._

 _There'd been more cursing, cries for help, general freaking out and then, to top it all off, downright praying to any deity who'd give him the time of day and take pity on him. It hadn't been until the early hours of this morning that he'd realised what had happened to him after remembering an offhanded conversation he'd overheard between a pair of the old farts down at the shipyard; a story that he now wished he'd paid closer attention to._

 _Devil fruit, the mythical fruits of the sea…_

 _Marco smirked as much as he could in his winged form, remembering the reverence that the old seadog had spoken with when he'd referred to something that was supposedly as rare as chickens teeth before he'd gone right back to shouting orders at Marco who'd stopped to listen only because another of the older shipwrights had stated how much Belli one of them could potentially fetch._

 _The joke was on the old fool though; Marco wouldn't trade this gift for all the treasure in the world. To him it was priceless. He could now go where he pleased and do as he wanted._

 _The world had just gotten a lot larger to the kid who'd grown up thinking he'd die miserable, alone and forgotten._

 _As he drew closer to the Island he noted from his vantage point high in the sky that there was a harbour-style city located on eastern side of the island, easily making the medium sized town he'd just left look like a sapling next to a fully grown Oak in comparison; it was that huge._

 _He opted to land on the Islands opposite shore instead of going straight to the bustling city like a normal person would; something had just screamed out to him that he needed to proceed with caution where his new found powers and other people knowing about said powers were concerned._

 _So as he banked left Marco sized up the huge tropical looking forest that spread out over the majority of the Island and wondered what new things would await him._

 _His home Island was of a temperate climate and so Marco had only ever heard stories about the many other wonders this world had to offer. Occasionally though, if he was very lucky, a travelling merchant would stop at their backwater Island for repairs and over the years Marco had developed somewhat of a sneaky sticky fingered streak, pinching the occasion fruit, nut or berry from an occupied crews cargo hold._

 _He flew low to the tree tops for a while, scouting the perfect place for him to land and make camp. He found it by following a small river upstream, coming to an open but still sheltered clearing close to a wide section of the river that he could see fish swimming in._

 _It didn't take him long to gather kindling to build a fire. Some larger branches and the wide lily-pad shaped fronds of an odd tree Marco had never seen before proved to be good materials to make a shelter from._

 _He spent the entirety of the afternoon building his campsite, changing form in order to hunt the fish leaping from the water's surface to catch the dragonflies flitting over the rippling water before cooking them up on his campfire and devouring them with gusto._

 _Marco had just gotten to the water's edge, about to step into the inviting looking clear stream after stripping off his dirty clothing so he could wash them and himself when a very feminine giggle rung like a bell through the clearing._

 _"Careful there birdy-boy, it only takes a few inches to drown a fruit user and I'd so hate to never see those pretty blue flames again." Quickly grabbing and pressing the bundle of clothing to his crotch Marco looked around curiously for the source of the voice._

 _After five minutes of fruitless searching Marco narrowed his cerulean blue eyes, deciding to go with a different tactic; it hadn't taken him long to notice that there was more to this devil fruit then just transforming into a large blue flamed bird. "You know it's not nice to spy on people when their trying to clean their clothes, yoi." He drawled as a smirk tugged at his lips._

 _That sing-song laughter once again bounced around the clearing, seeming to come from every angle and Marco was loath to admit that his new heightened hearing was as useless in this situation as if he were still just an ordinary human._

 _"I was fully intending to make my presence known… eventually." The voice sung as he twisted his head every which way, searching in vain for its source." But it has just been so fascinating watching you flit about these past few hours that I couldn't help myself." Another giggle filled the clearing. "Will you forgive me birdy-boy?" Marco could practically envision the unknown figure pouting as she asked that question or him._

 _He refrained from snapping as she once again referred to him with that ridiculous nickname, feeling the corner of his left eye twitch in suppressed irritation before choosing to go for a different route; one that would hopefully get him what he wanted. "My name's Marco by the way. And I'll think about it if you show your pretty self." He purred, using the same voice that had gotten him beneath the skirt of a many a local girls back home._

 _The air in front of him shimmered like that of a dense summers rainfall, one moment he was looking at a rocky riverbank and his campsite just past its edge and the next moment he was staring into a large pair of slanted oval shaped violet coloured orbs framed by thick black lashed; the horizontally slitted pupil only added to their otherworldly beauty._

 _"Is that a promise Marco?" The words spilled from a pair of pouty lavender tinged lips that took form out of seemingly thin air before the rest of the figure slowly started to appear in front of him the way he remembered a mirage would appear across the water on a hot summers day._

 _"What are -... Who are you?" Bafflement and wonder coloured his words as he stood there completely uncaring that he was openly staring at the short humanoid slowly taking shape just within reaching distance of him._

 _At 6'5" Marco was well over a foot and a half taller than the petite women standing suddenly before him… but as she looked up at him through lowered lashes, her luminescent eyes shining with a knowledge that made him feel somehow more exposed than his current nudity ever could, he audibly swallowed the sudden lump in his throat as he felt like a guppy staring down a cyclone._

 _He gave himself a pat on the back for not freaking like he had yesterday afternoon though._

 _…Though if truth be told, if it hadn't been for the fact that he was still riding the high of his own sudden devil fruit abilities and the possibilities that they now offered him Marco may very well have flipped over the petite women standing before covered in a layer of fur the colour of fresh snow that hugged her like a second skin, leaving barley anything to the imagination; and at the healthy age of eighteen Marco had a very active imagination._

 _The same purple hue that tinted her plump lips also streaked her oval shaped face and down onto her chest in an intricately symmetrical pattern that had Marco wanting to follow the wispy lines with his finger tips… or his tongue. An urge that he studiously repressed as his new senses screamed at him that the women standing before him may look like she was around his own age, if not younger, and couldn't snap a twig to start a fire but was potentially one of, if not the most deceptively dangerous creatures that he'd ever come across in his life._

 _And that was saying a lot considering that up until only yesterday the worst thing he'd had to worry about was a handful of venomous spiders and snakes during the wet season._

 _Her long hair was a vivid shade of Orchid and was platted in a series of small braids that wrapped around a small set of pointed, white tuft tipped ears that sat atop her head before merging into one large length that tumbled down her back._

 _But the most startling thing, and what ultimately had Marco's undivided attention was the multitude of bushy white tails, tipped with the same shade of purple at their ends as her hair, that she had pulled around in front of herself to comb her clawed fingers through. From just a quick glance Marco counted at least several of the shimmering appendages._

 _"Perhaps one day I'll tell you my true name." The women in front of him stated as he lips pursed and a thoughtful expression stole across her face seconds before they stretched slowly into a mischievously wide smile and she lent closer to him. "As for now, perhaps you can come up with something that suits me?"_

 _"Ummm… how about Kit?" Marco supplied, sounding rather stupid even to his own ears as his usual charming and collected side completely abandoning him in the face of this bizarre turn of events. "You know, because you look like a Kitsune." He tacked on the end, wanting nothing more than to smack himself in the face at his utter lack of intelligence._

 _"Kit." She wore a thoughtful expression as the name rolled off her tongue experimentally, nodding happily up at him moments later. "I like it." She stated cheerfully as she went back to lovingly running her finger through her tails, his eyes tracking their movements._

 _"Oh, and Marco, my dear Phoenix." her voice drew his attention once more and he found himself momentarily lost in her bright eyes "I'm just like you silly."_

 _It took Marco a few moments more than he'd ever care to admit to anyone to truly focus on the specific name that the women in front of him had called him…_

* * *

Having known Kit for a very long time Marco wasn't at all surprised to sense the presence of another individual aboard as he dropped down onto the vessels abused deck as lightly as possible, not wanting to potentially destroy it any further than it already was considering that between everybody currently present he knew that only one of them could swim... But even though he did know for a fact that the only times Kit would ever think to push herself beyond her normal limits was when she was protecting someone - over the years the crew had witnessed it on numerous occasions when the little purplette would track them down with anywhere from one to twenty people that she'd rescued in tow, making sure that they were ok and being looked after before finally succumbing to her own exhaustion - he didn't think that anything could have honestly prepared him for the sight that greeted him when he pulled the back the heavy cloak that covered her after dropping down into the small space hidden by the trap door at the base of the broken mast.

"Are they ok?" Marco looked up at concerned face of his brother peering over the edge of three by three foot hole; Namur was surprisingly as nimble on land as he was in the water, Marco hadn't even felt the boat so much as rock, before looking back down to the two figures.

Kit's larger body was wrapped protectively around what Marco could only assume was a small child's going by how petite she was in comparison to himself, and as her tails retreated from around the bundle in the purplette's arms, signalling that she'd passed out Marco felt his eyebrows rise, threatening to touch his hair line as he saw that he was in fact correct in his earlier guess of why Kit had pushed herself to a place that he'd only witnessed her go to a handful of times in the years that he'd known her...

Though the blondes sudden shocked expression wasn't due to the fact that it was a child who Marco thought could be no older than four, six at the most - Thatch had only been a scrawny nine year old when Kit had dragged him aboard the Moby - but because the little boy cradled carefully against Kit's chest looked like a small carbon copy of the fox shifter's hybrid form.

Marco did absently notice that the boy only had one tail and was mostly covered in a rusty orange coloured fur as opposed to Kit's white and purple coat as he watched the sickly clammy look that distorted the small fox minks face - and Marco didn't doubt for a second that the kid was from the tribe native to Zou - dissipated slowly before the same blush started to appear on Kit's already abused looking face.

"We need to get out of here as soon as possible, before whatever trouble she's gotten herself into this time finds us." He told the fishman hovering above them as he reached a hand out to move a few stray purple strands off Kit's suddenly sweat dampened brow.

Marco didn't have to tell Namur twice, the Eighth Commander repeated his orders to Ace who the blonde could sense was circling close to the boat before a series of snapping sounds reached his ears, Marco easily guessing the fishman was ridding the craft of its cumbersome broken mast before two loud splashes sounded seconds before the small wooden vessel suddenly lurched forward, slowly picking up speed through the water and getting them out of their rivals territory thanks to Namur as Ace followed behind them on Striker.

When they were safely back home Marco would figure everything else out… And this time he wouldn't let the troublesome women skirt her way around giving him an honest answer.

* * *

 **As Always Enjoy**

 **Xhex xoxo**

* * *

 **Decided to make this story while I'm stuck on my other one.**

* * *

 **One Piece is the property of Oda**


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